Mr. Sampath and the Art of the Chill

The Man from Scotland!  A Man for all Seasons!!

Geoffrey Sampath, as he liked to call himself jokingly when we were growing up, wearing a Scottish Balmoral-style hat and winter jacket on cold Delhi mornings, Appa was hardly ever flamboyant. This was the one indulgence he allowed himself. A crossword buff and a language lover, he'd use an imagined  Scottish accent trying to impress us when we were growing up. As with most kids, we found it more humorous than impressive! Looking back, though, given his penchant for picking up languages, he could have passed off for a Scotsman had he spent a little bit of time there. 

Born in Villivakkam, Madras, during the waning years of the British empire, the year WWII started, Appa was 4th of 5 siblings that survived to adulthood! From what I know based on hearing about his childhood, he was perhaps a conservative, safety-first type of a child. He wasn't a sportsman by any means, a trait that might have been defined by one specific moment in his early years. As the story goes, he and his cousins were chasing after someone on a bicycle and he took a huge tumble. Broke his front tooth and never picked up the courage to run again! I have a feeling he never really forgave those cousins for causing the trauma and laughing at him ;)! 

On the other hand, he was an avid reader and very studious. Perhaps he was the first in his extended  family circle to do very well in school (Singaram Pillai HS), and later at Loyola College where he graduated with a BA In economics - Honors, no less! He was proud of this extra honorific! Not having the family backing to pursue anything higher, and the pressure to earn to support them, he joined civil service - initially in the Railways in Mumbai and later switched to Customs and Central Excise. The latter defined his entire career. He moved from the then Bombay to Calcutta in 1964 with his wife of 3 years at that time, first child already born. Second would come a couple of years later, and the third, darling of the family, nearly a decade later. 

He was at home in Calcutta. Living in South Calcutta, the bastion of South Indian settlers in this once glorious city, Appa fell in love with the local language, Bangla. And the language loved him back! Within a few years, locals would ask which district of West Bengal he was from, not which Indian state. Such was his mastery. This was not just the spoken part- he also learned the script and soon was fairly fluent in reading Bengali text. The ease with which he picked up Bangla also extended to Telugu. At least for Bangla there was a reason, he was immersed in it in Calcutta. He claims he learned Telugu just by listening to it. 2 of the 4 families we were close to in Calcutta were from Andhra. Quite possible this was the reason although I think his ancestral place of birth had something to do with it. Kumbakonam/]Thanjavur, where his family came from, is the land where Tyagaraja and the music Trinity were born and was home to many Telugus. The local waters must have something to do with his Telugu knowledge although they had moved to Madras when he was barely 5. Yet, that ancestral connection ran deep, quietly bridging his love for languages to a lifelong devotion to melody—something that beautifully manifested throughout his life. 

During Calcutta days, as I was growing up, I remember a few things distinctly. He took us to the movies, some of which are etched in my mind. The Sound of Music at Globe theater was one such movie- he liked it so much he even took my grandma, his MIL, who couldn’t understand a word of English, to it. She seems to have loved it. Another movie he re-watched during this period was MS Subbulakshmi’s Meera. Originally released when he was a few years old, he was a big fan of the star musician and the title character she played. This was enough for him to want to name his daughter Meera even against the wishes of the orthodox families we came from. We also went for a few Tamil movies at the Minerva theater. Thanga Padakkam (Gold Medal), VIetnam Veedu (symbolizing the divided house) and Rikshakkaran featuring MGR in a typical “saving the poor man against the tyranny of the evil rich men” role that would eventually catapult him to becoming TN’s CM, are some that I remember watching with him. The sights and sounds of Calcutta are etched in my mind because of the various trips we took around the city on weekends as a family. The Esplanade's buzz, Park Circus, Maidan and Victoria Memorial Hall, Eden Gardens, Doll/Children’s museum, Nehru Planetarium, Kali Bari and Howrah Bridge are but a few of those. Perhaps because of him, Calcutta ranks #1 in my list of Indian cities. 

One of the gifts he and my mom gave us was a focus on learning Tamizh. We were admitted to Andhra Association School where one section was for Tamiilians. All 3 of us learned to read and write our mother tongue from a young age. This later continued in Delhi with DTEA!! They also encouraged us to read various Tamil novels throughout our lives. Bharathi Tamizh Sangam near Lake market was a favorite destination. This gave us the opportunity to read classics by various Tamil writers when we were growing up- some of those hold a special place in my heart. Even today, we read modern day Tamil classics and are getting to enjoy the depth of Tamil literature and history thanks to this forethought. 

A funny and memorable event we had around 1974 is stuck in my head. For a brief period between 1970-74, appa owned a Lambretta scooter. A heavy scooter, unlike the more lithe and agile Vespa/Bajaj, this gave appa a sense of security and balance.  He’d ride the scooter slowly, but we were happy to finally have our own vehicle. Like a typical Indian family, my brother would stand in front of my father in the small space, I will be squeezed between father and my mom in the pillion seat holding the new and youngest member of the family, Meera. On this day, we went to Lake Market, a well known vegetable market. As we finished shopping and approached the parked scooter, we noticed a bull staring at us. When my father kick-started the scooter, the bull must have got rattled by the noise and started slowly advancing towards us. We scrambled onto the scooter and decided to beat a hasty retreat. Retreat we did, but there was nothing hasty with a Lambretta. My father probably tried to accelerate as fast as he could, against his nature, but the scooter was slowly chugging along Rashbehari avenue, with an accelerating bull behind us. The faster dad went, the faster the bull seemed to get. This was probably around 7:30-8 PM  and the place was pretty crowded. However, not a single soul stirred to help us. They were all fascinated by the matador show and were cheering the bull on. Like the cycle incident as a child, this further enraged my father as he was screaming for help while trying to get away. Finally my mom threw the vegetable basket containing all the fresh veggies! Lo and behold, the basket found its mark. It landed right on the bull’s face and the basket handle got caught in its horns. Moms never miss their mark!! This caused the bull to be distracted enough for us to get away. Phew. Dad’s BP was through the roof and next morning he sold his scooter!! The impending transfer to New Delhi was ostensibly the reason but we think it was all bull!!

10 years later, father was transferred to New Delhi. This marked a dramatic transition for all of us. I, for instance, who had grown up as a Bengali boy, lost all touch with Bengalis for the next decade. Delhi is also a vastly different city. Calcutta, with its trams, crowded markets and streets was very pedestrian friendly those days. We walked everywhere perhaps because it was faster that way ;)! Delhi, on the other hand, was far flung. Overcrowded DTC buses were the only mode of transportation we knew. By now, we were older and independent. Appa and amma didn’t blink when we had to take DTC buses for 45 minutes to get to school. Our parents taught us independence without making a show of it. If that’s what was needed, that’s what was done. Appa would also leave for his office at about the same time as us, also trying to take the same buses. Remember, he was a cautious man, so to this day I don’t know how he made it to work as these buses would notoriously not stop at the bus stop. We had mastered the art of getting on to moving buses, barely getting a toe hold and hands clutching at the window grill. Right in front of him. He never chided us or lectured us! I can’t imagine any of us having the same faith today - we have become over protective!! Should have learned the “art of the chill” from him. 

By now our relationship was much more mature and he treated us as equals. We read the same English novels, Arthur Hailey, Alistair MacLean, Agatha Christie and a whole lot more. Anyone who has been around him will know his love for crosswords. We too became avid fans and would sit together solving these and other puzzles. Amrita Bazar Patrika in Calcutta also carried Cryptoquip that my dad and mom would solve together. They made a great puzzle pair. This habit continued till his last days. Somewhere along, my mom overtook him and became a master of App-based games including Sudoku, but we can’t imagine him without a pen and a folded newspaper anytime during the day.

One of the beauties of the era we grew up in, our parents were a true representation of the attitude that children were not their possession but merely ones that had been entrusted in their care. They were never overbearing. For the most part the best they could do was hope we would study and do well in our careers but not how we went about it. So when my brother showed some interest based on peer conversations in preparing for JEE, they fully supported him, even though it meant an added burden paying for private prep classes. He justified this expense by qualifying and suddenly my career path was on a fixed trajectory! They had discovered IITs thanks to Sridhar! But then he was always the bookish kind!! IIT seemed his natural calling. I don’t think appa had too much hope for me. This was revealed in a funny conversation AFTER I got through JEE and he was accompanying me to Madras to settle me in. Halfway through the 36h journey he exclaimed, “You listen to Vividh Bharathi from 7 AM till 11 PM, I never thought you’d make it through JEE” :)! True, I did that but he conveniently forgot that I picked up that habit also from my brother!! That is the extent to which he was directly involved in our education, but we knew that he and amma were fully supportive and gave us the confidence we needed to pursue our dreams and never held us back. This came handy when Maya and I became parents and our daughter announced she was NOT interested in STEM. We knew our role was not to impose our desires and hopes but support her in her passion. Namu can thank grandparents on both sides for this!

My days away from home at IITM and later when I moved to the US, again with his full support, meant I was not in everyday contact with him. But there was not one time he let the distance bother him- the occasional phone calls to a neighbor's house because we didn’t have a phone at home were just as easy as conversations when we met in person. I remember making the call in March of 1990, barely nine months after leaving India, to announce that I had found my life partner! His presence on the other side of the call made it so easy! There was no drama, no filmy threats, but just a simple laugh that eased all tension, and the rest is history. By the time they met Maya the following year, everyone was totally at ease. Maya became his Crossword companion while drinking morning coffee. As the legend goes, Maya even sang a “Dabban koothu” song when asked if she could sing, and won my dad’s heart over and we got instant permission to get engaged right away ;)!  

That in a nutshell was my father. He encouraged everyone to be their best and never criticized anyone. Till the last day, he made me feel like I was a better singer than I was. He on the other hand was a natural genius when it came to music. 

The Composer

Appa never formally trained in music. He also never formally learned Sanskrit. Despite this, as early as the mid-70s, appa got the urge to compose music in Sanskrit.  He penned his first song in honor of Sri Ramanujacharya, one of the most important exponents of the Sri Vaishnavism tradition who propounded Vishishtadvaita (Qualified Non-Dualism). I was a kid at that time but loved the tune he would sing this in. A little while later, he wrote about the glories of Sri Vedanta Desikan, the most brilliant stalwarts of Sri Vaishnavism in the post-Ramanuja period. Then I lost track of his composing era as I was away from home the rest of the time. When they visited the US finally in 2000, I finally got to hear a few of them. These were true gems. The specialty of his compositions, something he was immensely proud of, was that until then, no one had focused on Vaishnava Sthala Puranas and glorified not just the deity, but of the holiness of the place where the temple was located. My favorite in that batch of compositions was “Chakrayudha Pane” about his birthplace, Kumbakonam. My mom taught Maya another of his compositions, Sri Parthasarathim, about the eponymous Deity in Thiru Alli Keni (Triplicane) . Perhaps fittingly, his last rites will be performed at Krishna Theertham across from this temple for the next 10 days. 

In 2009, Sri Chitraveena Ravikiran made his dream come true but setting tune and producing an album titled “Hari Samarpanam”, featuring 9 of his gems sung by brilliant rising stars then. All of them are big names in Carnatic music today. A few years later, he and amma collaborated on his second album, Ahobila Hari. This album carried the first 2 songs on the Acharyas and 16 others. 

All his songs, meanings and notations were released in a book format, called “Keerthana Mala”. His wish was that people would take up these compositions and

popularize them as many of the temples and the glories of their sites are not well known even amongst Vaishnavites. Perhaps, as with many other artists, his dreams will come true one day!!

May 17, 2026 Webster Word of the Day was “Affable”, Affable describes someone who is friendly and easy to talk to. It can also describe something, such as someone’s personality, that is characterized by ease and friendliness. Unknowingly, Webster hit the nail on the head as a tribute to a man who personified the word. Anyone who has met appa even briefly will come away feeling they met their best friend - someone who deeply cares about them. The tributes I have heard and read in the last few days is a testimony to this.

Appa- I miss you a lot already and I know as days go by I will feel the void even more. But if I have learned one thing from you, it is never to be perturbed - be the “Sthithaprgnya”, the equanimous mind. I hope to emulate you!

 

Title: A Masterful Journey Through the RD Burman Era

R.D. Burman: The Man, The Music is a definitive read for any Hindi cinema enthusiast. Whether your "golden era" is defined by the classical depth of the 50s or the revolutionary sounds of the late 60s through the early 80s, this book is a fantastic exploration of the man who redefined an entire genre.

What I Loved: The authors provide a refreshingly honest narrative. Rather than deifying Pancham-da, they present him as a complete human being. His genius is balanced by insights into his personal struggles, his complex relationship with his father (SD Burman), and a certain naivete in navigating the shark-infested waters of Bollywood politics.

A Walk Down Memory Lane: As a die-hard RD-Kishore fan, this was pure nostalgia. It was like a frame-by-frame replay of my youth. I found myself back in the world of Amar Prem, Kati Patang, and Namak Haram. Anecdotally, the music of Mere Jeevan Saathi actually helped me find my own life partner with "O Mere Dil Ke Chain"—but that’s a story for another day!

The Technical & The Tactical: The book brilliantly captures how RD adapted when the "Romantic Hero" era gave way to the "Angry Young Man" shift. Beyond the notes, I was fascinated by the behind-the-scenes stories of subterfuge and backstabbing, proving that even the greatest innovators need a bit of business acumen to survive.

Final Verdict: I hope to eventually compile a playlist to accompany this book, as the discography is vast. In the meantime, if you are a Hindi music buff, do yourself a favor and pick this up. It is a thrilling, melodic ride.

Book Review: R D Burman, The Man, The Music by Aniruddha Bhattacharjee and Balaji Viital is a must read for any Hindi movie music fan, especially ones who grew up in the golden era of music. Whether you consider this the 50s-60s with their classical bent, Naushad, Ravi, S-J and SD Burman, or the late 60s to early 80s when there was but one man, RD Burman, who defined the music genre of this period, this book is a fantastic read.

What I liked about it was the honest narrative. it didn't deify R D Burman, although in someways I wish they had ;)! His genius was interspersed with insights of his personal struggles as a musician, his disagreements with Dada Burman, and his naivete in dealing with Bollywood politics, this walks us frame by frame through the most important phases of his life.

His music genius needs no introduction. For a die-hard RD-Kishore fan, this book was absolutely nostalgic. Some of his greatest compositions were from an era where I was too young to have heard when they were released but not so young that it was decades later. It really felt like a walk through the proverbial memory lane. I remember Amar Prem and falling in love with the Pushpa and Anand Babu, listening to one classic hit after another. Kati Patang, one of those typical Rajesh Khanna movies where the songs were out of this world, Namak Haram, Mere Jeevan Saathi, each outdoing the other in terms of creativity and genius. Anecdotally, Mere Jeevan Saathi later found me my Jeevan Saathi with O Mere, Dil Ke Chain! That's for another day. While RD-Kishore-Kaka (Rajesh Khanna) were ruling the roost in early 70s, the formula was slipping from story-line perspective. The romantic hero, RK was being replaced by the Angry Young Man, Amitabh! And the romantic genre in songs changed to more beat oriented numbers. RD was up for this challenge as well. I can go on, but that's why there is the book. And most fans will readily relate to all that is said.

What I found fascinating to learn was all the friendships, the supporters, the behind the scene stories as well as the subterfuge, the backstabbing and how even the best in the business need marketing and a business sense to survive.

If I find time, I wlll compile the playlist to accompany this book, but that will require some time. It is extensive.

I encourage the hindi music buffs to get their hands on this book in the meantime and get the same thrills I got while reading it

Thiruvarangan Ula by Srivenugopalan

 Thiruvarangan Ula- By SriVenugopalan
A Book Review (Tamil Historical Fiction)


I recently finished Thiruvarangan Ula ("The Journey of Lord Ranganatha"), and it is easily one of the most gripping historical fictions I’ve read this year. I had grown up reading Pushpa Thangadurai novels and was surprised to see this historical fiction written under his name Sri Venugopalan. Would not have made the connection unless my parents mentioned it. This book is a masterpiece of a different scale.

The story begins with a frantic race against time. We follow a protagonist who, upon hearing of the Delhi Sultanate’s impending invasion while in Kancheepuram, travels non-stop to alert the Srirangam temple. This sets the stage for a 48-year saga of survival. As the "epicenter" of Vaishnava philosophy, Srirangam was a prime target, and seeing figures like Vedanta Desika navigate this chaos adds such a layer of authenticity to the narrative.What struck me most in Volumes 1 and 2 was the portrayal of the geopolitical landscape. While the temple priests and devotees were risking everything to move the Utsava Moorthi through the deep interiors of Tamil Nadu, the local leadership was in shambles. The book doesn't sugarcoat the ineptitude of the South Indian kings, particularly the Pandyas, whose internal infighting left the gates wide open for the Sultanate. It was heartbreaking to read about the failed efforts of the Chalukyas and other empires to restore order while the Lord remained in exile.Volumes 3 and 4 shift the focus to the next generation and is titled Madhura Vijayam I loved how the story evolved into a mystery, following new protagonists as they searched for the "missing" idol across Gingee and Tirumala-Tirupati. The author weaves lessons of contemporary 14th-century history into a tale of trials, devotion, and eventual restoration. The novel spans roughly 48 years (1323–1371 AD) during which the idol was moved across various locations like Jyotishkudi, Tirumala, and Gingee before finally being reinstated in Srirangam by the Vijayanagara Empire.

For anyone interested in the history of South India or the resilience of the Vaishnava tradition, this is a must-read. It’s not just a story about a "procession"—it’s a story about a culture refusing to let its heart be extinguished.

Listen to Dushyanth Sridhar's 2016 Discourse on Thiruvarangan Ula here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVbuvzSyNpw

Historical Route of the 48-Year Exile

The journey (1323–1371 CE) covered several states, including Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Karnataka, and Andhra Pradesh, to keep the urchava moorthi safe from Sultanate forces. 

• Departure from Srirangam (1323 CE): Led by Pillai Lokacharya and others to protect the golden idol, Namperumal.
• Southern Tamil Nadu & Kerala: The idol was moved through deep interior regions and forests, including major sites like Azhagar Kovil near Madurai.
• Continues West through Pollacchi, Palakkad and Kozhikode before turning towards Terakanambi
• Tirumala (The Long Stay): Finally the idol reached Tirumala and was kept in the Ranganatha Mandapam within the Tirupati temple for a decade, where it was worshipped alongside Lord Balaji.
• Gingee (Senji): Before the return, the idol was stationed at Gingee.
• Restoration at Srirangam (1371 CE): Facilitated by the Vijayanagara general Kambanna Udaiyar after the liberation of the region. 

Two Contrasting Books to end 2025

​Thanks to some long flights with uninterrupted time, I was able to read 2 more books to close off the year.  These were 2 completely different genres from all the other books I read this year. 

Review: Peace Through Power by Lukas Haynes

I recently had the pleasure of reading the latest work by my good friend and fellow Sepsis Alliance Board member, Lukas Haynes. A distinguished scholar and expert in U.S. foreign policy, Haynes has produced a remarkable treatise titled "Peace Through Power," published by the Foreign Policy Association (FPA).

The book offers an insightful look into the formation of the United Nations following the failure of the League of Nations. Haynes reveals that the seeds of the UN were sown as early as 1940, while World War II was still in its infancy. He provides a "ring-side seat" to the high-level diplomacy and intricate machinations involving FDR’s United States, Churchill’s United Kingdom, and Stalin’s Russia. Each leader recognized that the menace of global conflict between superpowers could only be prevented through a unified, collective will.

Much like the Federalist Papers or the framing of the U.S. Constitution, the conception of the UN is presented here as a masterclass in foresight. As the title suggests, the organization was designed to strengthen the United States through a broad global strategy rather than a parochial, "country-first" approach. This globalism was a calculated defense against the post-war isolationism that might have otherwise invited another world war.

Indeed, it is more accurate to say that the UN was built with American national defense at its core. While today’s isolationist rhetoric is not new—and may make the UN seem counterintuitive to self-defense—Haynes illustrates the organization’s true strategic value. The narrative explores not only international trade-offs but also the monumental internal effort required to align the State Department, the military, wiith the heads of the Army and Navy (the Air Force being a fledgling organization at the time), and the Office of the President.  

I highly recommend Peace Through Power to any student of history or anyone genuinely concerned with the long-term safety and stability of our great nation.

Review: Azhwargalai Aradhippom by Indra Soundarrajan

In stark contrast to the historical diplomacy of my first read, the second book I finished is a journey of Bhakti—devotion and total surrender to the Supreme Being. Titled "Azhwargalai Aradhippom" by the late Indra Soundarrajan, it is a beautiful compilation in Tamil detailing the lives of the Vaishnava Acharyas and Saints.

Their collective devotion forms the foundation of the worship of Lord Sriman Narayana, immortalized in the "Naalayira Divyaprabandham." This "Book of 4,000 Divine Hymns" consists of verses that poured from the hearts of the twelve Azhwars (Saints). Written in Tamil, these hymns are considered equal in spiritual weight to the four Sanskrit Vedas and are often described as being composed at the divine desire of the Lord Himself.

Though their lives spanned several centuries and they came from vastly different backgrounds, the author highlights remarkable similarities in their spiritual journeys. Each saint experienced a transformational moment where they recognized the profound strength found in absolute surrender.

While this book may have a specific appeal to the Vaishnavite community and Tamil readers, its message is universal. If you have any interest in the power of Bhakti as a path to Moksha (liberation), these stories are essential reading. For me, it was a deeply moving experience, and I am grateful to my parents for recommending it.

The author, who recently passed away, left behind a significant legacy of Tamil literature that I look forward to exploring further. On a personal note, this particular copy has become a prized possession—it now carries the autograph of the legendary Krish Srikkanth! 😜

Brothers 'n Charms

​Brothers 'n CHARMS by Ranga Sampath 

Never did I imagine I'd meet my childhood cricketing idol. And definitely not at his home, sharing a casual evening laughter with cuppa chai and soup! This story has unlikely facilitators in two other brothers - both mine and more importantly his.

It all began on my birthday. As has become our habit, we began winter vacation in the air that day -- those typical long distance intercontinental flights across multiple time zones!  I have been known to milk these events by having my fellow travelers wish me in each time zone. This time was no different We flew in from San Diego to DC to Frankfurt enroute to Chennai. The journey was already made special in DC as we bumped into my IITM classmate, Sivudu (Anand Sivasubramanian) in the lounge, also traveling to Chennai. Quite the coincidence. As we were waiting in line to board the FRA-MAA flight, the familiar sounds of people speaking Tamizh hit our ears. I felt we were closer to home! Right next to us was a small group of people who seemed to know each other and had a friendly banter going. Then one gentleman from that group said  "Today is Srikant's birthday!" My ears perked up! I knew that Krishnamachhari Srikkanth, India's swashbuckling, fearless opening batsman from the 80s, shared my birthday, but could he be referring to the same guy? Never one to be intimidated by strangers, I mentioned that it was my birthday also! The gentleman gave me a smile and said he was Srikkanth's brother, Srinaath, and indeed he was referring to my hero!! I couldn't believe it. An instant bond was formed. Soon we boarded, and lo and behold, Srinaath was seated next to me across the aisle. This would be a memorable flight, I had a feeling. 

A word about Srinaath -- he is one of the most pleasant and friendly people you can meet! He is very open and warm; he exudes compassion and care. And he's spontaneous! He decided we'd celebrate my birthday on board and asked the purser if he could arrange for a small cake. Next thing I know I have a friendly Lufthansa crew with a personalized card and cake for me.  I cut it with everyone around me singing Happy Birthday to me. Then Srinaath asked me if I'd like to speak to Srikkanth! Would I? No doubt about it. He dialed his brother and I heard the voice of Cheeka, as he's familiarly called, on the line. We greeted each other on our shared birthday and that was  that. I had received my best gift already! Or had I?

In the meantime, I eagerly shared my cake-cutting video and selfies taken with Srinaath  with my family in India. My brother, Sridhar immediately responded saying Srinaath looked familiar! As Srinaath and I continued our conversations, I told him Sridhar seemed to recognize him. I showed him Sridhar's photo- and, the next surprise- Srinaath instantly knew where they had met: a business gathering in Chennai, 2 weeks prior! Small world. Then Srinaath uttered the next magical words: Would I be interested in meeting Cheeka? I couldn't believe my ears! Of course I would, I told him, but we were heavily time-constrained on the current trip. We settled on being in touch and he said I could reach out whenever I had time in the future. The rest of the flight was pleasant and we parted in Chennai, promising to stay in touch. 

Early the next morning when Maya and I woke up in Chennai we realized we had a short window the same evening, a day after my birthday, where we could possibly meet Srikkanth. I wrote to Srinaath if he was serious about his offer and if the very short notice would work for him and, more importantly Srikkanth, to meet. The response was affirmative! Both of them were available and we could meet at 630 pm!  Sridhar in the meantime was also excited - we both grew up loving Cheeka - and offered to drive us to Neelankarai. Maya, whose indoctrination to cricket was completed in 2025 with live, in-stadium, presence at Leeds, followed by not missing a ball of the exciting 5-match England vs India test series earlier this summer,  was also infected by the excitement! 

The Visit 

Neelankarai is on East Coast Road. This was once a sleepy town far from the city on the way to Mahabs when Srikkanth had bought a large piece of land and built his home in the late 80s.  Now,  with growing IT activities, it has become hard to reach due to traffic. Despite this, we managed to get there at the promised hour and the gates to the villa/mansion was opened by the watchman. As we stepped in, Srikkanth welcomed us from his beautifully manicured garden which had a nice gazebo and sitting area! Srinaath made the introductions and we were off down memory lanes. Sridhar and I had witnessed Cheeka's test and first ODI centuries in the series against Pakistan in 1987. Incidentally, both times  his score was 123! I saw it at Chepauk, in Chennai, while he had witnessed it in Eden Gardens, Kolkata! Except his game ended in an unexpected upset loss due to late heroics by Salim Malik!  When we asked Srikkanth about those moments, we could tell he was still upset about it! In his typical blunt fashion he blamed the captain, Kapil Dev, for throwing the match away with some bone-headed decisions! We, as upset spectators, totally agreed. We had clinched defeats from the jaws of victory in fading lights at the Eden! After all these years it clearly rankles all 4 of us. 

Srikkanth's candor and openness in speech is legendary. Many may find it difficult to  deal with, especially how he criticizes the players of today during his Tamil commentary! But, as Sridhar noted, there's a cult-following for his   Tamil commentary which approaches cricket with the same gusto as his batting - irreverent but effective. No holds barred irrespective of who's in front of him. He speaks his mind - only that his mind speaks in Madras bhaashai!! We in fact talked about his batting style and why he thought he could hit any bowler at any time - from ball number 1. He was unflinching in his response - he could read the bowlers hands very early and had the hand-eye coordination needed to take apart the bowler. He backed himself at  all times. He wistfully noted that if he had been given more rope, as some of the modern day cricketers are getting, he could've played longer! No regrets in his voice though. When asked about bowlers whom he found challenging, pat came rhe answer - Marshall and Akram! We had always known this. The memories of Sharjah where he hit Malcolm for a 4 and a 6 only to be cleaned up on the third bowl is an everlasting memory. Akram hastened his end with swinging yorkers that used to thud into his hapless pads. He readily admitted he couldn't pick those up because of Wasim's action. But there was no fear in him when it came to Imran, Holding or Roberts, all of whom he has hit for runs throughout his career. He said they were easy to pick up. Back to the two scores of 123 that Sridhar and I had witnessed, we can vouch for how thrilling it was to see him dismantle both Imran and Qadir, two best bowlers in that Pak squad, taking them for 20+ runs in an over! Repeatedly! Some of those shots are ringing in my ears even today. 

1983 and 1985

These are the two biggest stages where Cheeka established his reputation! And India learned to believe in itself against the mighty sides of the opposition. 

Windies were ruling supreme in '83. No one, not  even the Indians, believed we had any chance to do anything meaningful in the tournament. However, the young side led by Kapil came with the aspirations to do better than in 1975 and 1979 where in 6 matches they had only won one, against the lowly "East Africa" team - where is East Africa anyway? They were in a tough division in 1983, with the 2-time defending champions as well as the mighty Aussies! We played each other 2x in the opening stages. Zimbabwe matches  were our only realistic hopes to win, at best. 

Fairy tale began when india upset the Windies in the opening match. We had just finished a grueling away series in the Caribbeans and had put up a good fight without making a dent on the series win column. That was probably the best that had happened because Windies took us for granted and we had become familiar with their intimidation tactics! The entire fairy tale of the 1983 WC win has been captured beautifully in the epic "83"! I won't repeat the triumphs and heartbreaks here - if someone hasn't watched the movie I highly recommend you put everything down and go watch it now. But there are a few indelible moments for me that are worth repeating here as we all reveled in the recall. 

First, Cheeka confirmed that the movie was, in his opinion, 99% accurate. Anything that was made up fit within the 1 %. Of course this may be an exaggeration. One that had lingered in my mind was regarding the use of "mongoose bat" by Kapil Dev in the transformational Epic knock of 175 n.o.against Zimbabwe! Movie shows this but because there was no TV coverage of the match that day (BBC technical staffers went  on strike) we hadn't seen it. Not only did Srikkanth confirm this, later in the evening we saw the autographed personalized momento of this mongoose bat that each of the teamates was given and hangs in his collection in a framed case. Impressive bat! Check, true story. 

Second, the funny part in the movie was the time when Srikkanth, Kapil and Jimmy Amarnath get invited by a Tamil family. Cheeka was looking forward to this as he was tired of the "awful north indian dishes and sandwiches" (sic) he had to put up with till then. Unbeknownst to him, the family is portrayed as canvassing to get him married to their daughter. The visit actually happened - their family friends lived in Manchester and had indeed invited them. But by then Cheeka was already marries to Vidya, (incidentally a few years my senior from DTEA Lodhi Road), and the family was fully aware of it. So the 1% was the added spice of matchmaking!!

Finally, the best part for a Srikkanth lover, he was the Top Scorer of the Finals. A measly 38! Out to a Marshall Beauty! A moment of heartbreak for all of us watching the match live for the first time! But a magical Kapil catch much later would not only dismiss the marauder Sir Viv, but ensure that 38 was a match winning and highest knock that day. India held aloft the Prudential World Cup! The whole nation woke up to a cricket dream. From here on every loss would be  a dagger in the heart and the team mindset turned to a winning one. 1983 is "When  It All Started". 

As defending world champions, India entered 1985 Benson and Hedges tournament in Australia with a burden. World was out to prove we were a fluke who got lucky in 83! While there is no movie '85 yet, and I can write pages about that tournament, let's just say Srikkanth as the opener ensured we wouldn't falter. The large grounds in Australia usually intimidate batsmen as clearing them for 4s and 6s is more challenging. Not for Cheeka. He dismantled opposition bowlers like they were net bowlers and India won the tournament never once failing to be in front. The belief was now firmly established. All cricketing glory would have to go through India from here on. We were not to be taken lightly. While we  failed to win another WC title till 2011, the disappointment of 1987 home loss to England in SF or 1996  ignominy in Kolkata to the marauding Lankans that led to riots in the stands notwithstanding, India had woken up to an era of expectations. Kapil Dev and Srikkanth had led us to that belief. They were the stepping stones - the pioneers on whose shoulders future stars would shine.

I digress. Or do I? These are Srikkanth's stories. Those who watched him bat were awestruck. From Richie Benaud in the commentary box to Sunil Gavaskar, the man who defined opening batting  and  who once scored a "classic" 36 n.o. in 60 overs in 1975, were left applauding the stroke play. There was no putting the genie back in the  box. From Sidhu to Sehwag to Dhawan, Rohit, Jaiswal and Abhishek, the improvisations have advanced leaps and bounds, but at a time when no one had heard of T20, IPL and fielding restrictions, Cheeka stood tall and delivered. Perhaps the best compliment was seeing in action Sunny out  pacing Srikkanth against NZ in 1987 WC innings. What a dramatic turnaround.  Best form of praise is imitation indeed!!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving!

We had not planned this visit. I desperately wanted his autograph. Only thing I had handy was a book on Azhwars (Vaishnava saints) by Late Indra Soundarrajan! An amazing book, but semed an odd choice for a cricketer's autograph. Since I had no  other option, I took it along with me. Cheeka unknowingly brought up a topic that made perfect connection. We were talking about our disappointments on so many occasions where Cheeka would throw his wicket away after scoring 20-30 runs. Not because the bowlers did something special, but it was often to ordinary balls. In his inimitable style, perhaps with a bit if sadness tinging voice, he admitted he was "arrogant", didn't think most bowlers needed to be respected, adding it was the "Iyengar Kozhuppu" 😜😜! The highest form of ego in the "I, Iyer, Iyengar" ladder! The minute he said it I had my cue to bring out the Azhwars book!! He gladly signed it. 

Then the unexpected happened. He ran into his house even as we were all talking and was gone for a few minutes. Then he came back with the perfect gift befitting the stylish batsman. Miniature bats with his WC '83 and B&H'85 images along with group photo of his teammates. He autographed the bats and spoke kindly before handing it to us. Our cup was brimming over. 

The last and equally surprising part of the evening was yet to come. Srinaath suggested Cheeka take us inside the house to his trophy collection in his office. Srikkanth almost seed embarrassed by this but thankfully he was open to this. What a treasure trove. See the photos and you'll see what I mean. A replica of the Prudential WC 1983 trophy, autographed bats, various trophies. He allowed us to photograph them and also kindly posed with us, capping off a memorable evening. 

We had spent over an hour with him and all 5 of us could have talked for another 2! But we didn't want to overextend our invitation and said our goodbyes, albeit reluctantly. Couldn't believe this had actually happened. On the car ride back we 3 were unanimous in our feeling that this had been the best thing we could have done. The brothers, Srikkanth and Srinaath, were gem of human beings - so down to earth, warm and hospitable. Made us feel at home. 

Maya has been a cricket convert since we met and started watching mostly WC matches. In 1999 we nearly named our child based on one of the modern stars of that time- Sachin, Sourav, or Rahul! Luckily we had a girl!! We stay up all night for WC matches even now, often with our San Diego family group either in person or via texting. But she never knew Cheeka. Couldn't understand why I'd go on and  on about a yesteryear hero. And how awkward it'd be for her to come meet someone she knew nothing about. If it were not for my child-like enthusiasm and insistence we may never have made this. She was willing to humor me as it was my birthday. After the one hour I think she's as big a fan if not bigger. Sridhar of course was the beneficiary of all this but he rescheduled multiple meetings and was eager to drive through the Chennai traffic all the way to Neelankarai on a weekday evening to meet Cheeka! There was no way he was going to miss out on this. 

Thank you Cheeka for the  hospitality and for trusting your brother's words. You didn't just open doors to your house but also to your heart. Bigger thanks to Srinaath for taking a typical airport friendship to a very different level. I didn't expect you to respond to my message after we had parted. Had a sinking feeling it was going to be a case of so near yet so far. But you were sincere in your words followed through. We were blown away. I dedicate this day to you and Sridhar for bringing us all together! Truly Brothers in Arms! 

Book Review: Wizards of Oz by Brett Mason

A Scientist’s Reflection on the Australian "Gifts" that Saved the West

By Ranga Sampath

I was gifted a book earlier this year by my good friend and colleague, Don Chalfin. Thanks, Don. It took me a while to get to it but once I started, I finished it in under 3 days. As I wrap up 2025, a year where the world often feels like it is fraying at the edges, this book provided the perfect antidote to my cynicism. Brett Mason’s Wizards of Oz is, quite simply, "unputdownable." It captures the electric, desperate excitement of scientific discovery occurring in the shadow of a raging war. But more than a history of WWII, it is a story of how we are shaped—and often misled—by the textbooks we read.

The "Fleming Myth" and the Scientist’s Course Correction

As a scientist working daily on infectious disease diagnostics, sepsis, and the terrifying rise of Antimicrobial Resistance (AMR), I thought I knew the history of my own tools. I had always accepted the standard hagiography: Alexander Fleming discovers the clearance of S. aureus in a messy Petri dish, and modern medicine is born.

Mason’s book was a startling "course correction." I learned, to my own professional shame, that Fleming had essentially given up on the mold, moving on to sulfa drugs. The transformation of a laboratory curiosity into a life-saving drug was not Fleming’s work—it was the result of the gargantuan efforts of the Australian Howard Florey and his team at Oxford.

Operating on shoestring budgets in the midst of a blitzed Britain, Florey’s team proved the drug worked, but found no one believed it could be manufactured at scale. It took Florey’s relentless advocacy and a "perfect storm" of geopolitical necessity to force U.S. pharma companies to mass-produce it. To think of the lives saved—exceeding the death toll of all 20th-century wars combined—we must do more than just know Howard Florey; we must celebrate him as the true architect of modern medicine.

The Radar and the Radical: Mark Oliphant

The book pairs Florey with his younger compatriot, the physics genius Mark Oliphant. Like Florey, Oliphant brought a specific "colonial grit" to the stuffy halls of Cambridge. His team contributed two tectonic shifts to the global order:

1. Microwave Radar: A small-footprint device that gave the Allies a unique advantage. By pinpointing German Luftwaffes and U-boats with precision, this single device neutralized German technical superiority and arguably turned the tide of the war in the air and at sea.

2. The Atomic Pivot: While many (including the Germans) believed a Uranium bomb was a theoretical impossibility, Oliphant’s team proved that U235 could be extracted in sufficient quantities.

The Shift of the Scientific Center of Gravity

As someone working in science today, I am used to the U.S. being the undisputed sun around which research orbits. Mason reminds us that in 1940, the heart of discovery was in Europe—Copenhagen, Oxford, Cambridge. America didn't have the capability; they had the will and the means.

The three most consequential inventions of the century—Penicillin, Radar, and Fission—were essentially gifts from two Australians via Britain to the United States. America provided the "ownership mindset" and the industrial scale to transform these prototypes into the technologies that defined the "American Century."

A Call to Action: Protecting the Miracle

Mason includes a quote that resonates deeply with any researcher: "WWII was the first war in human history to be won by weapons and technology unknown at the start of the war!"

However, as a specialist in infectious disease, this history carries a heavy warning. Howard Florey didn't just give us a drug; he gave us a lifeline. Today, that lifeline is fraying. The overuse of antibiotics and the resulting rise of AMR threaten to push us back into a "pre-Florey" era where simple infections once again become death sentences.

We owe it to Florey’s legacy not just to celebrate his discovery, but to protect it. We must invest in diagnostics, stewardship, and new discovery with the same "war-effort" urgency that Oliphant and Florey showed eighty years ago.

Final Thoughts: Optimism for 2026

As I look toward the coming year, Wizards of Oz gives me hope. It reminds me that when the world seems to be falling apart, it is often the quiet, relentless endeavor of scientists—often those we haven't yet learned about in our textbooks—who will lift us all up again.